


Hotel California

by MuchAmused



Series: Hotel California [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attention to Dean's heart, Canon Typical Violence, Classic Supernatural, Dean Winchester Whump, Dean Winchester's Heart, F/M, Hotel California - Freeform, Hunt Fic, Monster of the Week, Monster of the Week style hunt, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Dean Winchester, Song Inspired Series, Song fic, Spn whump, Whump, the eagles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 18:37:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18816706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuchAmused/pseuds/MuchAmused
Summary: What first appears to be a reprieve on a long stretch of desert road turns out to be more than the Winchesters bargained for.Inspired by the song of the same name by The Eagles.Dean’s POV.Song Fic.Case Fic.Monster-of-the-week classic Supernatural style.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always loved this song. I’m a huge Eagles fan. Always have been. And one day I’m driving around town listening to this song on the radio and this story hit me like a bolt of lightning. It wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it. Hopefully someone else enjoys reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.

It’s well past midnight and Sam is zonked out on the passenger seat. The miles are just rolling by in unhurried, stretched out, solid-yellow-line silence.

The case we just wrapped up has taken a lot out of both of us. Sam is clearly exhausted, and I’ve only been driving for two hours, but I’m already feeling the effects of the sleep deprivation from the last few nights wearing on me. My eyes are heavy and dry, and no amount of blinking is going to cut it. I need sleep.

I glance at Sam. God, he needs his sleep, too. And just because he grew up to be bigger than me doesn’t mean I can turn off the big brother voice in my head that’s telling me to let him be. I can stay up a little longer. For Sammy.

And I try. I really do. Another twenty minutes of dark desert landscape slides by. I can only see the occasional cactus on the side of the road, awash in Baby’s headlights as this damn road stretches out forever before me.

I’m so tired. Even my heartbeat is trying to lull me to sleep, ticking by the seconds in my chest, all slow and steady and rhythmic like a damn traitor. I blink hard, shake my head a little, and finally decide to roll the window down and see if the fresh air will change anything.

The air is fresh, but it’s not going to cut it. It’s also soothing, moving through my hair like a lover’s fingers. And I’m just so done.

That’s when I see it up ahead of me. A tiny bundle of lights. It’s got to be a building, or a rest stop, or a freaking service station of some kind. I’ll just get that far and then I’ll wake Sam. A few more minutes and it will be my head leaning against Baby’s cool window, and I’ll finally get some shut eye.

As I get closer I realize whatever I’m approaching is too big to be a service station. Then it hits me like a pie in the face … this is a damned hotel. It’s like a freaking desert mirage the way it’s suddenly making my dreams come true.

But there it is in all it’s old, southwestern, Spanish-style, stucco’d glory. And it’s big, and beautiful, and yawn-inducing all at the same time. I can practically feel my head hitting a pillow as I turn off the road into the little circular drive near the entrance. I think about going in to get a room and coming back for Sam, but then I decide it’s quicker if we just take our bags in with us the first time.

So I park the car to the side of the building and cut the engine. In my sleep deprived state I briefly muse about the fact that the parking lot is empty, except for us, and I wonder if this highway used to get more traffic than it sees nowadays. That’s the only thing that explains this hotel out in the middle of BFE. Sam’s still dead to the world, so I smack him lightly on the arm.

“What’s wrong? My turn already?” he asks, but he’s blinking his vision into focus and realizing we’re parked in a parking lot of sorts. A dirt one, anyway.

“Found a place to crash for the night,” I say. “Let’s head inside.”

He hesitates, but only because he’s still half asleep. I’m out the door faster than a zombie should be able to move, but I know the sooner I get inside the sooner I can rest my bones for a solid five or six hours. I grab both our duffel bags from the backseat and hand Sam his as he gets out of the car.

“Come on,” I tell him. “I know those lanky legs of yours can move faster than that.” He falls in step right behind me, our boots shuffling in the dust as we near the front of the hotel.

We follow a flagstone path that goes right around a small fountain. I don’t know why but I’m surprised to see there’s actually water in it, and it looks clean, best I can tell from the lights that are strung up all along the walls here and on the overhang of the roof.

I open the doors and we step inside. There’s a front desk, and a guy standing behind it who looks up to greet us

“I am very sorry to say this, but the hotel is temporarily closed to guests,” he says.

“Closed?” I ask, glancing around. “Doing a little remodeling or something?”

“Not exactly,” he says slowly. “We’re having some trouble, and the owner insists we not have guests until the issue is resolved.”

I blink at him. Now I’m just confused. “What issue?”

He looks around like there may be a line of people behind us that he doesn’t want hearing his answer. Sam and I both glance around the foyer awkwardly, in search of anything to explain the secrecy. But there’s nothing.

I wonder how much of this is just my tired brain exaggerating. Just another of my vital organs acting traitorous.

“Ghosts,” the man says quietly, cupping his hand to the side of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, ghosts?” Sam says, and for a guy who knows shit is real, he still manages to look skeptical. It’s impressive, even if I’d never tell him so.

The man nods. “Si, Senor.”

I’m too tired for this bullshit, so I step up to the counter and put my hand on it, give the man my best smile and say, “Looks like you’re in luck. My brother and I actually handle problems like yours for a living. So why don’t you get us a couple of rooms and we’ll see what we can do about this ghost issue?”

He’s looking at me now like he’s tempted, but doesn’t quite dare agree for whatever reason.

“I - I don’t know. The owner, he-”

“Where is he?” I ask. “Can we talk to him?”

He almost looks nervous now, which is kind of weird, but I’m too tired to care why. “Senor Cabello is not available, but-”

“Let them stay,” says a woman’s voice in a Spanish accent from behind us.

Sam and I both turn to see her approaching from a hallway that shoots off at an angle near the main doors. And if my sleep-deprived brain is the reason she’s so utterly breathtaking, then I’d say it’s back on my side again.

The man behind the desk fixes his eyes on her, and I almost think I see him shrink a few inches in her presence. It’s the exact opposite of what my body wants to do.

“You heard the beautiful lady,” I say to him, flashing her my best smile. “Come on. You put us up and we’ll see what we can do about your problem. After a good night’s sleep, that is. What have you got to lose?”

He’s watching her still, but something changes in his face and he’s nodding at me almost a second later. “Si, si. Two rooms.” He turns around and rummages though some things, but produces two skeleton-type brass keys, handing one to me and one to Sam.

“Show these gentlemen to their rooms,” the woman says to him. “Maybe they can solve our problem before my father returns. If so, I’ll be certain to let him know you had a hand in the solution.”

The man doesn’t look like he’s particularly in love with idea of taking credit for us staying, but he nods obediently and comes around to lead the way for Sam and I. The woman has already disappeared back down the long hallway, but Sam and I are following front desk guy another way. Sam gives me a questioning glance, but I just shrug, happy to be headed toward a bed.

Our rooms are right across the hall from each other, and the man leaves us to settle in as I unlock the door to mine.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Sam asks once the man is gone.

“About the ghosts? I dunno. I’m too tired. I’ll care in the morning.” Sam hesitates, but I’m already opening my door. “You’ve got salt. Use it. Get some sleep, Sammy,” I say. “I’m right here if Casper isn’t friendly.”

Sam rolls his eyes at me but starts to work his own key in the door before him.

“G'night,” I tell him as I close my room door behind me.

The bed is big, and to be honest I don’t notice much else. I drop my duffel bag on it, turn on the bedside lamp, and pull some salt out. It was good advice I’d given Sam. Doesn’t make sense not to use it myself.

I quickly draw salt lines along the door to the room and the bottom of the window. Then I pull my flannel off, tug my tee shirt over my head, and drop my jeans before climbing in between the sheets. I’m asleep within moments of my head hitting the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s four in the morning when I hear banging sounds and what seems like glass breaking somewhere above me. I jump out of bed, grab my gun from the nightstand and try to decide exactly what I’m hearing on the next floor up when I also hear voices in the hall outside my door. I realize that one of the voices is Sam’s and I throw the door open and find the guy from the front desk talking to Sam like he’s in a bit of a panic.

“What’s going on?” I demand. Now that it’s clear Sam is okay I’m wishing I’d thrown some clothes on. I look like an idiot standing in my boxers.

“Casper’s up to no good,” Sam says, which makes the front desk guy furrow his brow at both of us in turn. “I’ve got the room number,” Sam adds, holding up a brass key. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

I nod and step back into my room, scrambling to get dressed. I tuck my pistol into my jeans, knowing it won’t do much good if it’s actually ghosts we’re dealing with. But you never know.

Sam’s already standing by the Impala when I get there. I unlock the trunk and open it up and both of us grab a shotgun and some salt shot loads.

“I don’t like going in blind like this,” Sam says. “We haven’t had a chance to scope the place out yet.”

I shrug while I check the battery on the EMF meter. “That’s because we’ve only been here a few hours.” But he knows I feel the same way.

“Get any sleep?” Sam asks while he stuffs extra salt into a bag along with some lighter fluid.

“A little. Gonna have to be enough,” I say as I double check my pocket for a lighter. He gives me a nod and I drop the false bottom back into place and close the trunk, both of us heading back inside.

Front desk guy seems a little alarmed when he spots us, shotguns in hand, but he recovers and points for us to head for the stairs. He doesn’t even seem tempted to show us the way, and I decide that’s for the best. He’d just be in the way.

Sam and I take the stairs two at a time and walk down a small hallway that looks a lot like the one just below it where we’re staying.

I’ve already got the EMF meter on as Sam shifts his gun to his left hand and pulls out the brass key, turning it in the lock.

The commotion we’d heard earlier has stopped, but the evidence of all the excitement is scattered around the room. There’s bedding on the floor, the curtains have been shredded and hang limply from the rod, and the framed artwork has come off the wall, leaving shards of glass lying around. The EMF meter is going crazy.

“Well, I guess they weren’t kidding about the ghost problem,” I tell Sam.

“Guess not.” Sam pokes his head into the bathroom to survey the damage. “Do you think it’s weird that it’s not cold in here? Like, ghost cold?”

He’s right. The temperature is exactly the same as the rest of the building. With the level of activity here I should be able to see my breath.

“Huh….” I wrack my brain for a moment, considering the possibilities. “Not all ghosts necessarily manifest the same environmental control. Maybe this one just doesn’t bother with the temperature.”

“Because it’s got something else up it’s sleeve that’s much worse?”

I frown because Sam’s probably right about that, too. “I wonder how many were dealing with? Seems almost too easy to believe it’s just one in a place like this.”

Sam shrugs. “Seems to have calmed down in here for now.”

“Let’s split up and do an EMF sweep of the place. There’s bound to be some hot spots that give us a little more to go on.”

Sam nods and heads back downstairs while I scan the rest of the floor I’m on.

My meter picks up readings in a few places as I wander the halls, prompting me to pick the lock on two different rooms and go inside, but the place is pretty quiet. I wonder if it’s residual energy since nothing is currently causing trouble.

At the farthest point from the stairs I come to a set of double doors that look a little fancier than the rest. The EMF meter chirps and squeaks to let me know it’s picking something up, but it doesn’t sound a whole lot different than several other spots I’ve come to.

This doesn’t look like a regular room for guests, so I decide against picking the lock, at least until I know whether I’ll be wandering in on someone in the middle of the night.

When I meet up with Sam he’s talking to the front desk guy by the hotel entrance. The guy doesn’t seem to like the sight of our shotguns by the way he keeps eyeing them, but he’s going to have to deal with it. I’m keeping mine close for the rest of the night.

“How long has this been happening?” Sam asks front desk guy.

“Truthfully? There have been sightings of spirits for quite some time now on the property. But they never bothered anyone until recently.”

“So someone’s pissed the ghosts off,” I chime in.

“Have you had any guests that might have done something to trigger the violent outbursts?” Sam asks.

“I … I don’t think so.”

“What about hotel staff?” I add.

Front desk guy shakes his head. “I’m not aware of anyone doing anything to provoke the spirits.”

“You said there have been sightings,” I continue. “You ever see these spirits yourself?” He shakes his head again and I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck with my free hand. “What’s at the end of the hall on the second floor?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to answer my question, but I narrow my eyes at him, and after another hesitant glance at the gun in my hand he mutters, “Owner’s suites.”

“Great. Maybe the owner will talk to us. He probably knows more about this place than anyone. About the history here. That ought to help-”

“Senor Cabello is not currently at the hotel,” he says, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket.

“His daughter, then,” I add. “She seemed eager to have help with this ghost problem. Maybe she’ll know something useful.”

“I cannot speak for Seniorita Maya, but I must ask that you do not bother her at her rooms. She and the owner are very private.”

I mostly stopped listening after he said her name. I wondered if she really was as beautiful as my sleep deprived mind had found her to be a few hours ago. Either way, I’d most likely be waiting for morning to find out.

I frown, feeling like we’re no closer to getting to the bottom of this ghost problem now than we were the minute we walked in this place. It seems my plan of crashing here for a night may have turned into a full-blown case.

“Listen,” Sam tells the guy. “If you can think of anything else that might be useful please come and find us.”

And with that, Sam and I head back to our rooms, deciding to get a little more shut eye in before dawn.

 


	3. Chapter 3

I try to sleep for a few more hours but my body has apparently already given up on the idea. I’m so hard-wired to hunt that my body refuses to relax, which is a good thing in most cases. I mean, the hotel is definitely haunted. I get out of bed, knowing Sam will most likely be ready to scope out the hotel soon anyway. I take a quick shower, throw on some clothes, and I’m just putting on my boots when a there’s a knock on my room door. I open it to see Sam standing there. He looks more rested than I feel.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as I step back to let him come inside. “Didn’t you go back to sleep?”

“Oh, I slept a little.”

“I crashed hard,” he says. “I’m sure they’ve got coffee around here. We’ll get you some.”

“Yeah, okay,” I agree, stifling a yawn. I tuck my gun into the back of my jeans, lock up the room and slip the brass key into my jeans pocket as we head down the corridor toward the front desk to see about that coffee.

Front desk guy is nowhere to be seen, but the middle-aged lady standing there in his place smiles when she sees us coming.

“Ah, senors, you must be hungry after the restless spirits were stirring last night.”

I don’t try to hide the surprise on my face at her reaction, and judging by Sam’s silence he’s just as surprised.

“First, desayuno.”

I smiled, elbowing Sam and mouthing the word ‘breakfast,’ earning an eye roll from him.

“No sense in trying to ward off spirits on an empty stomach,” the woman adds in her thick accent, coming around the corner and gesturing for us to follow her.

I already like her better than the guy from last night, and apparently he’s filled her in on the situation.

“Then I’ll see to it you get whatever you need to help rid us of the spirits,” she’s saying as she leads us to a little dining area. She says something in Spanish to a young guy who is standing near what looks to be the entrance into the kitchen, and he nods and disappears temporarily. I don’t know everything she said to him, but I did recognize the word for coffee.

“Hector will see to it you’re fed. I’ll be up front whenever you’re finished. Come see me when you’re done, senors. No hurry.”

Sam and I thank her and she leaves us to get settled at a small table.

Breakfast turns out to be some sliced potato and egg omelets - which taste better than I expected, black coffee - just the way I like it, and some churros with hot chocolate on the side.

I’m not much for the hot chocolate, but I have three cups of coffee, despite Sam’s questioning glances while I let Hector refill my cup for the third time.

I leave cash on the table, even though Hector insists it’s on the house. Sam and I are about to make our way around to the front desk again when I see her.

Maya.

She’s passing by the dining area and her footsteps slow as she sees us.

“I’ll meet you up front,” Sam tells me, because as annoying as it is sometimes, he’s a damned mind-reader.

I nod and Sam politely greets Maya as he passes her on his way out of the dining room. She smiles at him and turns her attention to me as I approach.

“I hope everyone is treating you well during your stay with us, Senor …?”

Her voice lilts up in a question as she raises a delicate brow at me, and it takes me a beat to snap out of it.

“Dean,” I manage to say. “Dean Winchester.”

She smiles at me, and I swear my heart skips a beat, which is weird.

“Dean Winchester,” she purrs, trying out my name on her tongue and rolling the 'r’ at the end.

“It’s Maya, isn’t it?”

She smiles, nods and waves her hand slightly in an invitation for me to walk with her. I fall into step along side her as we move down the hall.

“So, tell me Dean Winchester,” she begins. “How does one come to be a commander of spirits?”

I bite back a laugh, thinking the only spirits I command are the kind in glass bottles, but even that’s usually the other way around.

“Uh, family business, I guess you could say.”

“I know a thing or two about that,” Maya says with a smile that’s almost sympathetic.

There’s a story behind that look in her eye as she glances my way. I’m tempted to ask her about it, but I really should focus on the case.

“Can, uh, can you tell me anything about the hotel that might help us?”

I feel a tightness in my chest and realize my heart is beating a little harder than usual. I don’t think too hard on it because Maya has stopped walking, and I pause at her side, waiting patiently for her to talk to me.

“What do you want to know?”

I take a breath, prepare for her to look at me like I’m crazy.

“Room 27 was the focus of last night’s activity,” I begin. “Has anything strange ever happened in that room that you know of?”

“Strange?” She bites her lip in thought, turning to face me directly. “I cannot remember anything ever happening there.”

“What about the rest of the hotel?”

She shakes her head slowly, considering me.

“Well, have there been any violent deaths?” I ask.

She touches the wall affectionately, feels me watching her and then reaches out, taking one of my hands in hers. She presses my palm flat to the wall, covering it with her own.  

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be feeling on the wall, but in my chest my heart shifts into overdrive and does a little flop that I’m pretty sure isn’t normal. Maybe I did overdo it with all the coffee.

“This hotel is old,” Maya says without missing a beat. “Every place has history. I’m sure she has her secrets.”

I wet my lips with my tongue, wondering why my mouth has suddenly gone bone dry. And what the hell is up with my heartbeat? It’s practically galloping now.  

Maya releases my hand, and I’m not imagining the way she softly brushes her fingers along my skin as she does it.

“Has your family always owned the hotel?” I ask, rubbing my chest as we start walking again.

“Always.”

“Maybe your father knows something,” I offer. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

She shakes her head regretfully. “It could be another week or more. His business takes him away for extended periods.” But she touches my arm now, her footsteps slowing. “There are journals,” she says, a hint of hope in her voice all of a sudden. “In my father’s study….”

“Your father keeps journals?” I ask for clarification.

“Some are his. Some belong to my grandfather before him.”

She stops walking again and I realize we’re near the front desk. Sam is visiting with the woman who made sure we got breakfast.

“Look, Maya,” I say to her. “Those journals might be the only way for my brother and I to track down the source of this ghost problem. Any chance we could take a look at them?”

She hesitates, and I can feel the bad news coming. I raise an eyebrow at her, hold my hands out in a gesture of openness.

“It’s just that my father is a very private man.”

“I get that. I do. But this ghost, or ghosts, they’re not going to stop until we make them. And I doubt your father would want business to suffer because he can’t have guests while the place is haunted. Am I right? Wouldn’t you rather he come back to a fully-functioning hotel?”

I don’t mention the fact that I can’t ever imagine this place being too busy, what with it being out in the middle of BFE, but that’s beside the point.

Maya studies my face like she knows I’ve just made a good case, but she’s still not convinced. I can tell before she speaks again.

“I’m afraid I cannot hand over my family’s private journals,” she says, taking a step toward me as she sees my frustration. “What I can do, Dean Winchester,” she adds, “is read over the journals myself and share anything that may be of help to you.”

She glances over at Sam, who looks over and smiles at her before he taps the front desk with a hand, thanking the woman behind it.

“I’ll send for you at dinner and we can discuss what I have found in the journals,” she says.

Did she just ask me out to dinner? I’m watching her and trying to decide exactly what just happened when Sam approaches.

“Maya, this is Sam,” I say slowly, still hung up on the dinner thing. “Sam, Maya.”

“It’s great to meet you,” Sam says.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Maya says. “I want to thank you both for what you are doing to help us with the spirits.”

“You may want to hold off on thanking us until we actually accomplish something,” Sam says lightly. Then he looks at me and says, “Any leads?”

Maya is watching me, guaging my reaction.

“Maybe,” I answer him without taking my eyes off hers.

“Tonight then,” Maya says to me. “If you’ll excuse me. It seems I have some reading to do.” She nods a farewell to Sam and I in turn and heads back down the hall.

Sam waits until she’s out of earshot before he starts in with the questions.

“What was all that about?” His tone is curious.

I rub at my chest again, wishing my heart would chill out. “Man, I’d tell you if I knew.”

Sam furrows his brow, eyeing me in concern now. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.”

“You keep rubbing your chest like it hurts.”

“I’m fine,” I insist. “Too much caffeine.”

Sam looks like he’s barely able to contain the 'I told you so,’ that’s just dying to burst out of him, so I start walking.

“What about you? Anything to point us in the right direction here?”

“The violent activity started up last week,” Sam says, following right behind me. “The second floor seems to get the most attention.”

“Apparently a few of the hotel staff claim to have seen ghosts, but I don’t know how recently,” Sam adds as I unlock the door to my room. “Not sure they’ll talk to us, or if it would even help, but it’s worth a shot.”

We step inside the room and I sit down on the edge of the bed, leaving Sam the only chair.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and when I open them again I expect to find Sam sitting in the chair across from me, but instead he’s standing next to me, hovering.

“You’re really not going to tell me what’s wrong?” he nudges.

I realize my hand is at my chest again, and I let it fall to my lap. “I told you it must be the coffee. My heart’s going a little haywire.”

“Coffee, huh?”

I give a little shrug, rub the back of my neck. “Sure. What else?”

“And you’re sure it’s not just a girl with mocha-colored skin?”

I give him my best bitch face in response. “Can we get back to the real problem here, smart ass? We have ghosts on the loose.”

Sam smiles and says, “So did she know anything that might help?”

“Apparently her dad has journals. She’s going to look through them and let me know if there’s anything.”

“Alright, that’s a start I guess. Why don’t you see what you can dig up on this place online, and I’ll go see if I can get any of the employees to talk.”

“Yeah, fine.”

Sam takes off and I put my hand over my heart, feeling it thump hard and fast. Paying attention to it is just making it worse so I grab my bag and pull my laptop out.

I sit back against the headboard, computer on my lap, and start the mind-numbing search for anything that might clue us in to why this place is such a hot spot.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

By noon my stomach is growling. I’m getting nowhere with the research, so I call Sam, hoping he’s had better luck talking to staff than I did researching online.

We meet up in the dining room again and Hector sees us coming this time. Sam and I go back and forth over lunch, discussing the case openly and both wishing the other had come up with something more helpful.

Sam got various descriptions of ghosts from the members of the staff.

“The grounds keeper regularly sees the ghost of a young Spanish boy out in the courtyard. The ghost has never tried to interact or even acknowledge him before,” Sam explains. “Hard to imagine he’d be the source of all the destruction we saw last night.”

“Yeah, what else?”

“The lady at the front desk says she’s never seen anything, but that objects sometimes get moved without explanation. Then a member of housekeeping told me she was there the first night things started breaking last week, but no one had been staying in the room where it started.”

I groan. “Surprise, surprise.”

“It was the second floor. Room 29.”

“Is that across the hall from the room last night?” I ask.

“Might be. We’ll have to check.” Sam takes a bite and chews. He swallows and then says, “So you really didn’t find one thing to help us? Don’t you find it weird that there’s no mention of this place online. At all?”

“Do you?” I say, lowering my voice. “I mean, it’s not exactly a vacation destination. We’re in the middle of nowhere, Sam. And trust me, I searched every possibility. I searched history local to the area, even. I got nothing.” But Sam doesn’t look convinced. “Look around,” I tell him. “Does this strike you as the kind of place that has a website and is concerned with search engine optimization?”

Sam takes a deep breath and sighs. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Course I am.”

“Now what?”

“I’m going to finish eating, and then maybe I’ll head outside and take a look around the grounds. See if anything strikes me.”

“What, like you think your spidey sense is going to tingle and lead us to the ghost?”

“You got a better plan?”

Sam lets out a humorless laugh, but he’s no closer to figuring this out than I am.

When lunch is done Sam heads back up to the second floor. He wants to check out the rooms that were giving off the EMF more closely during the day time.

I leave cash on the table for Hector and make my way outside. It’s already hotter than hell, and I can feel the sizzle of the sun on the surface of my skin after just a few minutes.

The soles of my boots clap on the uneven flagstone as I make my way through the rear courtyard. There are a few trees that provide a little shade, and I find myself lingering near them as I move. It’s even hotter once I leave the flagstone; I swear to god the sand holds the heat differently.

I see a small group of Joshua trees about twenty yards away, and then directly across from those is a small cluster of shade trees. I make a beeline for the Joshua trees, wishing I had a pair of sunglasses on me as I walk.

I’m watching the ground, although for what I’m not exactly sure. Ghosts aren’t going to leave footprints, but my eyes are trained on the sand, glancing up on occasion to take in the rest of my surroundings.

The area around the Joshua trees is about as boring as the sand that led me here. I cast my eyes about for a moment, knowing Sam is going to give me a hard time about my spidey sense failing. Then I head toward the small cluster of trees to my right.

That’s when I see it, a small group of stones on the ground. But they’re placed a little too close to each other, and are shaped a little too rectangular to have not been put there by people on purpose.

As I get closer my suspicions are confirmed. These are grave markers. Three of them. But they’re old, like, really old. The edges have worn down from the elements, and it doesn’t look like anyone has been out here in who knows how long.

I crouch down, run my fingers along the surface of one of the stones, brushing away the bits of sand that rests on top and fills in the carved out spaces.

There are two letters on this stone, and they’re tricky to make out. I study the engraving closely.  

**M.C.**

 

“No dates on the stones?” Sam asks, running a hand through his hair.

I shake my head. “If there ever were you can’t see ‘em now.”

I pull out my phone and hand it to him so he can check out the pictures I took of the grave markers.

Sam gazes at the pictures for a moment before sighing. “I don’t suppose anyone here would appreciate us salting and burning them all for good measure,” he quips. “Did Maya mention graves on the property?”

“No.” But Maya hadn’t really told me much. “I’ll ask her about it tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m meeting her for dinner.”

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up. “You asked her out?”

“Didn’t have to,” I say. “She asked me.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Maya answers the door after I knock and I’m sure the look on my face let’s her know exactly what I think about the red dress she’s wearing, but I attempt to find words to explain anyway.

“You look … wow. You look fantastic.”

“Thank you, Senor Winchester,” she purrs as she steps out into the hall and closes the door to her chambers. “You look very handsome.”

“Please, call me Dean. And I’m afraid I’m severely underdressed.” Apparently I should have pulled out my FBI suit, but it’s a little late for that now.

“I like what you’re wearing,” she says. “It’s very manly.” I don’t catch one hint of insincerity in her tone. For some reason that surprises me. “I brought you something.” She hands over a leather-bound book that’s worn from use and years.

I open it to a page that’s been earmarked. “What’s this?”

“The hotel guest ledger for the last few years. I don’t know if it will be of any help, but I thought you might want to look over it. I’ll explain more after we’ve eaten.”

I flip a few pages, seeing hand-scrawled names in rows. “Thank you,” I tell her.

She hooks her hand in my arm and we walk toward the dining area, but Maya gestures for me to detour toward the courtyard where I can hear soft music playing. I see why once we step outside.

A table for two has been set up on the flagstone with what looks like an oil lamp in the middle of the table. A three-piece band is playing nearby.

I’m definitely underdressed.

I pull out her seat for her and sit across from her, setting the leather-bound ledger aside.

It’s a beautiful night, even if it is a little on the warm side. The moon is out, and the view is like a painting of a southwestern landscape.

Hector has to have been watching or listening for us, because he’s there almost immediately. “Senorita Cabella, Senor Winchester,” he greets us as he approaches the table.

“Hector, my good man,” I say, earning a grin from Maya.

Hector sets out two wine glasses and pours red wine. Not usually my choice of poison, but I’ll take what I can get. I figure maybe it’ll even make Maya relax a little and tell me enough to figure out whose spirit is wreaking havoc on the hotel.

That would get Sam off my back about this dinner date.

“It’s going to rain soon,” Maya says wistfully as she gazes at the sky.

It’s as clear as any I’ve ever seen. “Think so?”

“Mmm-hmm. I can always feel a storm coming. I love desert rainstorms…. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve asked the kitchen to prepare a traditional spanish plate for us. It’s one of my favorites.”

I smile at her. “Sounds great.”

Wine and food before discussing her father’s journals totally works for me. I’m famished for some reason, despite having had two great meals today. We make small talk for a few minutes and then Hector is bringing out the food. It’s so different from the diner food and take-out I usually live on - and there’s just so much of it. I can’t seem to get enough.

“The hotel has been in my family for several generations,” Maya says as Hector clears away the desert plates. “My father was born here, as was I.”

“You were born in the hotel?” I ask, incredulous.

She smiles and says, “There is nothing for many miles. Is it so surprising?”

I blink at her. “Huh. I guess not.” I take a drink from my glass of wine and then say, “Your mother, she … ” Maya gives me a sad smile and I wish I didn’t have to pry, but this is what we’re here for. I have to know.

“Passed away while giving birth to me,” she says. “I’m named after her.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I lost my mom when I was young. It’s tough.”

“Everyone here is like family to me. I can’t imagine not having all of them around.”

“It’s kind of like you’re in your own world out here, huh?”

She nods and says. “I don’t mind. What about you. Are you and your brother close?”

I nod. “Yeah, we are. It’s been just Sam and me for years.”

“Do you always travel looking for spirits?”

I smile at her simplification of it all. “We’re on the road a lot.”

“It’s good you have each other.” She meets my gaze and adds, “Still, all that traveling … it must get lonely.”

I’m certain I see her brow hook a little as she takes another sip of wine.

The silence between us isn’t akward, at least not until the yelp of a coyote in the not-so-far distance interrupts, making us both laugh a little.

I watch her, feeling my heart flip flop a little, and of course it’s going to go haywire again right now. I try to ignore it, knowing anything else will just make it worse.

Maya smiles and reaches for the ledger, opening it up to a page she’d marked for me. “This man here,” she says laying the book flat on the table between us and pointing to a name. There’s a little star written next to the line. “He had a heart attack while staying here and passed away.”

I furrow my brow. A heart attack is literally death by natural cause, unless the heart attack was brought on by something sinister.

“Your father wrote about it in his journal?”

“Yes, but I remember it happening.”

“About how old was this guy?” I ask her.

She considers me a second and says, “In his fifties, maybe.”

“Little young for a heart attack,” I say, which makes me painfully aware of my own heart hammering away incessantly. “But I guess it’s not unheard of…. Anything else?”

“Nothing recently.”

“What about further back?”

Maya sips her wine and says, “I don’t know exactly what you mean when you asked about violent deaths, but a sickness fell over the hotel when my grandparents were younger, before my father was born. They lost four people to the fever.”

Still might not be what I’m looking for, but we’re getting closer. I lean forward in my chair, listening intently. “Do you have names?”

“Regretfully, no. It was so long ago, and my grandfather’s journals were not as thorough as I had hoped they would be. He mostly wrote a personal history in them. I know at least one of the people was employed by my grandfather, but the other three are are only vaguely mentioned.”

“Guests, maybe?”

“Possibly. Beyond that, this is home for my family and the staff. There have been deaths that are related to old age, but nothing else that stands out.”

“Do you know who is buried out back? There are some old graves near that grove of trees on the property.”

“I’m sorry. No. My father would most likely know….”

“And there’s no way of contacting him while he’s away?”

“I’m afraid not. He’s very old-fashioned,” she adds, as if that explains everything.

I guess it sort of does. “Well, I’ll go through the ledger and see if I can dig anything else up.”

“Would you mind escorting me back to my chambers?” She says as she scoots her chair back and gets to her feet. “I’m afraid all the reading has made me weary, and it seems you’ll have some reading of your own to do.”

“Of course.”

I stand and she takes my arm again. I hold the ledger in my free hand and her little heels click on the stone floor as we walk.

“This way you can keep me safe if a ghost attacks on the way,” she says, a smile playing on her lips.

I chuckle. “That’s why I’m here.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be sad to see you go when this is over,” she says when we reach the door to her rooms.

“Is that so?”

She gazes up at me with those chocolate eyes and my heart gives a particularly troublesome lurch in my chest. A sharp pain comes and goes in an instant, and I suck in a breath, touching the spot over my sternum instinctively.

“What is it?” she asks, worry lacing her voice. “Are you well?”

I take another breath and nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I hope my tone conveys more confidence in that answer than I actually feel.

Maya’s hand is on my cheek now, and she’s studying me closely, guaging for herself.

“Maybe you should come in and sit for a moment. I could get you some water.”

And damnit I’m tempted to say yes, but she’s already told me she’s tired, and I really should be studying this ledger she gave me. And if I’m being completely honest, I feel the need to be downstairs with Sam, just in case my heart does get worse. I can’t for the life of me imagine what the hell is wrong.

“Really,” I tell her. “I’m fine. And, if you’re worried about the ghosts, you can line your doorway and windows with salt. It should do the trick for now.”

She looks taken aback by my suggestion, dropping her hand to her side again, and I quickly add, “I can do it for you if you want.”

“I can manage,” she assures me.

“Come find me if anything bothers you,” I say. She nods slowly. “And thank you. For dinner. It’s not often I get to have a great meal with a beautiful woman.”

She smiles and says, “Goodnight, Dean Winchester.”

“Goodnight.” I turn on my heel and head for the stairs.

Sam answers after I knock on the door to his room. I go inside with him and see an empty plate on the nightstand.

“Hector brought me dinner,” he says after following my gaze. “I guess he figured I’d be avoiding the dining room so I wouldn’t crash your date.”

Another sharp pain shoots through my chest and a groan escapes my lips. I hold my breath, hand on my heart, and wait for it to pass as the pain ricochets around my ribcage.

“Dean?” Sam’s saying, stepping close enough to put one hand on my back and the other on my shoulder. He’s holding me steady while I squeeze my eyes closed against the pain.

This time the pain lasts longer than it did upstairs. I take a shallow breath when it lets up, testing out the motion of my lungs to see if it’s going to come back.

“What’s wrong?” Sam’s demanding.

“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve been getting this pain in my chest. Seems to have passed for now.”

“How long has this been going on?”

I rub the back of my neck. “My heart’s been acting kinda goofy all day.”

Sam’s pressing his giant palm to my chest now. “Hey, whoa….” I roll my eyes, but he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “All right,” I say after a bit. “Come on, Sam. Enough.”

He sighs and drops his hand. “God, Dean…. What the hell have you and Maya been doing exactly?” Time for my bitch face again. “Nevermind. Don’t answer that.”

“Eating dinner,” I retort. “And talking about the damn case.”

“Your heart is racing. It’s got to be in the triple digits.”

“No shit.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Other than the shooting pain and the palpitations? Fine. Thanks for asking, Dr. Winchester.”

Sam sighs and studies me with an appraising eye. “I don’t know, man. Maybe we should get out of here and get you looked at by someone.”

“You want to just leave in the middle of a case?”

“I don’t want you having a heart attack on me,” he deadpans. “God only knows how far away we are from a hospital.”

“You’re overreacting,” I tell him, trying to convince myself as much as anything.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. And the sooner we solve this thing, the sooner we leave.”

Sam doesn’t look completely convinced, but I hand the ledger to him and take off my button up. For some reason I feel like the extra layer is suffocating me. It’s probably the goddamn heat. I take the chair and Sam sits on the bed, glancing through the pages.

I give him the shortened version of everything Maya told me, and we comb over the ledger together, Sam using his laptop to search through some of the names.

“Going through this list one by one is a long job,” Sam states, puffing out his cheeks with a breath of air in frustration. “And who knows if anything will even come of it.”

“I’d give anything to know who is buried out back,” I say.

“Yeah, well, maybe someone else around here knows more than Maya about that.”

“Maybe.”

“We’ll ask around tomorrow and see.” Sam looks over at me and I can tell he’s worrying again. “Why don’t you hit the sack?”

I open my mouth to argue and then think better of it. He’s going to insist anyway, and honestly, sleep sounds awesome. “Yeah, okay.”

“How’s your chest?”

I can feel my heart skipping beats on and off, but it’s beating slower, so that’s at least something. “Doesn’t hurt,” I say, which is true.

“Get some sleep,” he says as I stand and grab my flannel shirt and head for the door. I close the door to his room behind me and let myself into the one across the hall. I touch up the salt line on the floor by the door and double check that the one at the window is intact.

Then I strip down to my boxers and climb between the sheets. I can hear my heartbeat in the pillow, but I do my best to ignore it. Eventually, despite the pounding and trembling sensations in my chest, I sink into unconsciousness. The ghosts are quiet for the night, and I sleep like I’ve been wanting to for a long time.

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sam and I split up after breakfast in an attempt to cover more ground. I’m supposed to be interviewing hotel staff. We need to know exactly who is buried in the graves out back, but I’ve talked to four people so far with no luck.

And worse, I can’t tell whether they really don’t know, or just won’t say. Usually I can read people better than this, but I’m legitimately confused.

It’s making my head hurt. And it’s raining outside. A freaking desert rainstorm. Which is just enough to persuade me not to venture out to the headstones again out of boredom and desperation.

I hear the music from way down the corridor, and before I know it my feet are carrying me in search of the source.

Maya had called it, all right. What had started off as a light sprinkle is now big fat raindrops sliding through the air to sizzle on the hard, parched earth outside.

Some of the hotel staff are out enjoying the rain and it’s attempts to bring down the temperature. I pause where the corridor opens up into the large courtyard in the back to watch them dancing for a second.

The house band is tucked just underneath the area where the roof slants into another angle of itself to blanket the next part of the building. The overhang is just enough to keep them and their instruments dry.

At least these people are enjoying their time off. I’m turning to go when I see her. She’s out there in the rain, her slinky black dress clinging to every dip and curve of that gorgeous body. I swallow hard, try to remember what I’m supposed to be doing right now, but my boots are glued to the spot, my eyes glued to the scene playing out before me.

She’s moving like she lives for the rain, like the water is breathing new life into her. Her hips sway, hands reaching up toward the swelling sky. Her hair hangs in wet strands now, slapping across her back and neck, and then around front, dipping toward her cleavage as she spins around.

Now my throat is parched in ways even this rainwater couldn’t quench. I’m staring, and she glances in my direction as she turns. Then she’s smiling at the guy who dances past her and I wonder if she actually saw me at all. But her eyes are on me again just as quickly as they left, and I realize she’s moving in my direction.

It’s graceful and promising the way she comes at me. I’m not sure whether it’s the combination of the melody the mariachi band is plucking out on nylon guitar strings, or this storm that’s washing away more than desert dust, but when she holds out her hand I take it and step out into the rain with her.

She’s still dancing, her body effortlessly creating angles that make my heart kick harder against my ribs, skips or not. I’m mostly just watching while my feet carry me forward in the rain, but she’s moving with all the grace of a supermodel while she circles me, spinning beneath my hand to the music.

My hair is soaked now, my shirt sticking to me, and I’m surprised to find how comfortable the cool water is as it lands on my skin. She takes my other hand and pulls it to her waist. My fingers grip lightly, tucking into the soaked material of her dress and resting where her hip dips in.

Dean Winchester doesn’t dance, but in this moment I can’t for the life of me figure out why the hell not.

I pull her closer until that body is pressed up against mine, my hand in her hair. She breathes into the motion, gripping my shirt collar with her fingers like she doesn’t want there to ever be open space between us again. I think I’m on board with that plan.

Her hips are still swinging ever so slightly with the beat, like she’s a slave to it, like she doesn’t even realize she can’t stop. And without letting that open space intrude again, she does this slinky little twist that puts her back to me.

Her head is in the crook of my shoulder now, her hand on the back of my head, raking her nails in my hair. The other hand is gripping the back of my thigh, squeezing in rhythm.

I snake one hand around to rest flat against her stomach, feeling the beat of the music through her movements against me. We’re practically grinding now, and the smooth, fluid motion of her hips is a rhythm I match my breathing to.

She gazes up at me from under long, dark lashes, and I see the little droplets of rainwater trapped there. Her pouty lips are open just far enough to be a damn invitation. I dip my head down and she tilts her chin, meeting me halfway as her warm lips brush against mine.

The kiss is soft and languid and intoxicating. In the moment I’m almost certain I’d rather die with my mouth locked on hers than to ever come up for air.

When she does pull back, it’s to twist to face me once more. I brush away some of the rainwater on her cheek with my thumb and catch her mouth with mine again. I gently pull her bottom lip between my teeth, sucking, nipping, licking.

Her hand is on my chest, guiding me backward, and I’m subconsciously aware of my feet moving with strict obedience as the kiss becomes more frenzied. With a thud that knocks some of the wind out of me I feel my back hit the stone wall. I breathe for a second, my chest heaving, my eyes never leaving hers.

She bites her bottom lip and pushes my flannel off my shoulders, effectively trapping my arms in the sleeves as she raises up on her tip toes and kisses me again. I enjoy the way her tongue dances with mine, the taste of her mixed with the rainwater. I feel her fingers dipping under my tee shirt, caressing the sensitive skin on my stomach and trailing upward. And dammit I need my hands again.

I shrug off the heavy, dripping wet flannel and let it drop to the ground with a sloshing sound. But now that I have my hands back I cradle her head with one and press the other to the small of her back.

Her dress is completely saturated and clinging to her skin in all the right places. The fabric is cool against my fingers, but her mouth is warm and inviting. Inside it’s like I’m on fire, what with all the sucking and pulling and grinding that’s happening.

I pull her flush against me and turn so she’s backed up against the rock wall. Leaning down to support my weight with one hand I edge up the material of her dress until my fingers are on the bare skin of her thigh. She gasps and I swallow it up in a hungry kiss, her hands on either side of my face.

God, I can’t get enough of those pouty lips. And I wouldn’t have thought it possible but she looks even more beautiful dripping wet in my arms like this with her hair splayed out in thick, sopping strands. It’s almost devastating how affected I am by it. By her.

Damn, when did I completely lose my cool? I’m so far gone I don’t blink twice when she puts her lips to my ear and whispers that we should go inside. Her warm breath on my neck sends a chill down my spine and I swallow hard and take her hand, lacing her fingers in mine.

I scoop up my flannel, twisting it with a flip of my wrist, wringing it out against my leg a little as we duck back into the corridor. I put my arm around her waist to make sure she doesn’t slip on the tile as we move quickly and silently toward my room, the music fading into the background.

Once we’re in my room she slowly, tortuously pulls my shirt over my head and lets it fall to the floor, gazing at me. Her eyes take me in and I swear I can literally feel the heat of her gaze spreading warmth across my chest and abdomen as she stares.

“I have another job for you to do, Dean Winchester,” she coos in a voice that’s low and sexy as hell. “Before you find our ghost and drive away from this place and forget all about me.”

“Goddammit sweetheart,” I breathe. “You - you are trouble with an accent.” She smiles and takes a breath in this long, drawn-out and tortured kind of way that’s got me thinking even my words are turning her on. “I won’t be forgetting about you anytime soon,” I say. I’m sure as hell going to make sure she won’t be forgetting about me.

She smiles, all dreamy and promising, and then she’s sliding the straps of her dress off her shoulders. I keep my eyes on her while I kick my boots and socks off and shed my soaked jeans with some effort. I’m memorizing the look on her face as she lets her dress fall in a heap to the floor.

This. Is. The. Best. Case. Ever.

I’ve never wanted to not wrap up a hunt so bad in my life.

Damn, she’s gorgeous, wearing this black bra and panties that look amazing against her olive colored skin. I want to taste every inch of her. But I’m determined to take my time. Enjoy her. Make her melt in my hands, dammit.

I gently caress her through the fabric of her bra, cupping, squeezing lightly, eliciting a soft moan from her that’s so erotic it should be illegal. She’s enjoying herself. And I’m just getting started.

I give her another hungry kiss but quickly move away from that soft mouth of hers to nip at her shoulder, her neck. She whispers something in my ear in Spanish I don’t understand, but it’s sexy as hell. Then I take her by the waist, and she follows my lead, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips as I lift her up and crawl onto the bed, laying her down.

Her hands are rubbing up and down my chest, her nails lightly raking across my skin. I kiss the flesh that’s above the top rim of her bra. My hand behind her head guides her to sit up far enough for me to undo the clasp with my other hand, and I slide the bra off, tossing it aside with abandon.

Her chest heaves in anticipation. I immediately take her in my hands, warming her flesh up after freeing her from the cold, wet confines of the black lace. She moans again, pulls at my hair with her fingers, and I dip down, circling one of her nipples with my tongue while gently pinching the other with my thumb and finger.

I suck for a moment, nipping lightly with my front teeth as I pull back. She arches off the bed, practically writhing beneath me. I chuckle in satisfaction, though it sounds more like a rumbling growl deep in my chest. God, I’m having way too much fun. I could do this all day. In fact, I just might.

And then, because I jinxed it in my head, a freaking knock sounds on the door to my room. It’s hurried, frantic almost, and I groan loudly in frustration. “What?” I call out without trying to hide my irritation.

“Dean, open up.”

“Go away, Sam.”

He doesn’t hesitate, adding, “No. We need to talk. Now.”

But she’s got her hand at the waistband of my boxers now, sliding inside, and oh god….

I bite my lip to keep from moaning as I feel her hand on me. When I look down at her she gives me a devious smile and now I’m cursing my brother under my breath.

“Come on, Dean. Open up.”

“He won’t leave until I talk to him,” I tell her. She pouts at me and I quickly add, “Don’t move a muscle, sweetheart.” I latch onto her nipple one more time for good measure, swirling my tongue around before letting it go again with a little sucking pop. She whimpers softly and gives me a good solid squeeze that steals the breath from my lungs.

I get off the bed and move around the corner to the door, opening it just far enough to see Sam standing there impatiently tapping his foot.

He looks at me, at my dripping wet boxers and raises his eyebrows.

“This better be important,” I say with gritted teeth.

“Maya  - she’s not in there with you, is she?” Sam says, voice low.

“As a matter of fact she is. And we’re kind of in the middle-”

“God Dean, no. I need to talk to you. Now. Like, right now.”

I’m beyond annoyed. And arguing with Sam is seriously killing the mood.  "Dude, it can wait.“

"No. It can’t. Get rid of her. Put on some clothes and come to my room.” He waves a hand in my general direction, ignoring the bitch face I’m giving him, and adds, “Just tell her there’s been a break in the case - no, never mind. Don’t tell her that.” Sam looks like he’s about to lose his shit.

“You could use a good lay yourself, man. Relax.”

Now he’s giving me the bitch face. He learned that from me. Damn, I’m a good teacher. But Sam is not the one I want to be teaching things right now.

“Dammit Dean, you can’t … just trust me on this. Okay?”

And there’s those goddamn puppy dog eyes. “Fine,” I grumble reluctantly. “I’ll be right there.” I practically slam the door.

Maya is clearly disappointed when I tell her Sam needs me, but she seems to understand.

I get a robe from the bathroom and wrap it around her, relieved that she’s not asking questions. Then I find a dry t-shirt, and before I can put it over my head she takes hold of it, using it to pull me close to her.

“Come to me,” she says softly. “Tonight. In my quarters. We’ll pick up where we left off.” Then her lips are on mine, soft and tasting sweet with a hint of rain. Her tongue finds mine, but it’s not enough. It’s there and gone again as she pulls away, gazing up at me from under dark lashes. “I’ll be waiting, Dean Winchester,” she says as she goes to the door and slips out into the hall.

I curse under my breath and pull the shirt on, discarding my still damp boxers for some fresh, dry ones. Thinking about the way my name rolls off her tongue has me struggling to get a pair of pants on. They’re more snug in the crotch area than is comfortable, and I very much want to kick Sam in his crotch right now for it.

I notice she didn’t bother taking her clothes with her at all, and I hang them over the shower curtain bar to dry, grumbling to myself as I think about how excited I was to see this dress and little black bra on the floor just moments ago.

I head over to Sam’s room, knocking and upping my bitch face to another level while I eye him and step inside. He closes the door behind me.

“This better be damn good.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

I’m more than just pissed at Sam for interrupting my sexy time with Maya. And he knows it.

“You’ll thank me,” he says as he pulls out his phone.

I let out a humorless laugh. “Not likely.”

“While you were dirty dancing in the rain I picked the lock and sneaked into Maya’s chambers.” I glare at him. “What? Someone has to work, and I wasn’t sure if we’d have another opportunity while she was, you know, distracted.”

He swipes on the screen for a second and then hands it to me. These are photos, like really old photos, and he’s taken pics of them on his phone. The woman in the pictures looks a lot like …

“There are more. Keep going,” Sam encourages.

I swipe to the side and look at the second picture. This one was taken in the courtyard out back. I’d just been there. It was the same, almost. Some of the trees were missing. They were fully grown now, most standing over twenty feet tall. In this picture there are a few around my height, but some places there aren’t trees yet at all.

“Pictures are what, fifty, sixty, seventy years old?” I think out loud.

“At least,” Sam says. “It’s her, Dean.”

Well hell, that can’t be right. I squint, hold the phone at a new angle and study the image closer. I swipe to a third picture and study it. Even I have to admit the woman looks a lot like Maya, but it’s obviously not her. I mean, it can’t be.

“So you found some pictures of her mom, or maybe even grandma,” I say. “Strong family resemblance. What of it?”

“You don’t think the resemblance is a little uncanny?” Sam asked, hitching up an eyebrow.

I look again, narrowing my eyes. Maybe if she didn’t have any clothes on I’d have a better idea….

“And then I found this.” Sam takes his phone back and swipes some more before pulling up an image of what looks like a handwritten letter. He let’s me glance at it briefly and then reads it out loud for me.

“‘My dearest Maya, I have failed you. I swore to the heavens I would protect you. It is all I have ever tried to do. And now you are gone from this world. Without you, I have no reason to go on.’” Sam looks at me like the case is closed.

“Maya was named after her mother who died giving birth to her,” I remind him. “This letter is obviously something her father wrote after his wife had just died.”

Sam shakes his head, holding his phone up again to quote from. “'Without you I have no reason to go on.’ Does that sound like a man with a new baby to care for? Dean, it’s a suicide note.”

“That’s a stretch. He just lost the love of his life. He’s grieving.”

“Or he’s just lost his daughter,” Sam offers. “He’s just lost the one thing he had left in the world. The one tie he had to his dead wife.” Sam pauses for dramatic effect. I hate it when he does that. “I’m telling you, it’s her. Whatever is going on, she’s at the center of it.”

I rub my neck with a hand and sink onto the edge of the bed. “None of this makes any sense. Maya’s alive, and - and so is her dad.”

“We don’t know that. We’ve never even seen the guy, but I don’t think he’s the problem, dead or alive.”

“What are you getting at, Sam? Spit it out already.”

Sam shrugs. “It’s Maya.”

Now he’s totally lost me. “This Maya?”  I gesture with a thumb toward my room where Sam just interrupted Maya and me.

“Yeah.”

“You think she’s a freaking ghost?” I deadpan.

“Yeah. I do. At least consider the possibility. She might not be the only one we’re dealing with, but-”

“Come on, man,” I say. “I was just with her. But if you want to go there, let’s hash it out.”

Sam sighs, but he plops down on the chair and waits for me to continue.

“They want us to solve their ghost problem, right?” I say. “Why would they want someone poking around if … it doesn’t add up, man. This is bat shit crazy, even for us.”

“Are we really going to sit here and pretend it can’t be because we’ve never seen it before. Really?” Sam eyes me, waiting.

I groan in frustration. “I don’t know, Sam. She’s - she’s real. Okay? She’s an honest-to-god hot blooded woman. Trust me, she’s got curves, and those lips-”

Sam cocks his head, his eyes growing wide. “Dean, tell me you didn’t actually-”

I waive him off with a hand. “No. I didn’t. Hell, I wanted to. In fact, if you hadn’t interrupted me I’d have all the proof we need right about now to lay this whole theory of yours to rest. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Sam shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes like he’s trying to rid himself of the visual. “Gross. Ugh … enough. We’ve got to figure this thing out, but until then, no sleeping with the suspect.”

I frown.

“Should you even be messing around? With the way your heart’s been acting lately?”

I smirk at him. “Did you just ask me if my heart is healthy enough to have sex?" 

Sam rolls his eyes, but I know that pointed look. He’s dead serious. And he isn’t about to let this go until I can prove otherwise. That’s exactly what I’ll have to do.

"Keep it in your pants,” he pushes.

“Fine, whatever.” I throw my hands up. “What’s your plan? The sooner we solve this, the sooner I can celebrate the win with Maya.”

 

Sam’s plan isn’t very solid, but I don’t have a better idea when he demands that I offer one up.

After lunch now I’m out taking close up photos of the grave markers and headstones out back. Sam’s hoping if he adjusts the pictures on his computer maybe something will show up. It’s a long shot, but if there have been engravings that have weathered away, even I have to admit it would be pretty impressive if he’s able to gleam something I can’t see with my naked eye.

I spend ten minutes getting the pictures he needs and then email them to him. I seriously consider whether or not Sam and I might be able to dig up more than one of these graves to salt and burn the remains before someone from the hotel would notice and get upset. Chances aren’t very good there, either.

Might be worth the risk if we had any inkling as to which grave might be the one to start with.

I kick up little bits of wet sand and mud, a result of the brief downpour earlier, as I cross back over to the courtyard and my boots clap on the flagstone. I’m halfway across the courtyard when I glimpse him from the corner of my eye. A young Spanish boy. He’s standing near the fountain, looking right at me. I can practically see right through him.

He’s the ghost Sam said one of the hotel employees occasionally sees out here. I freeze in place, not wanting to scare him off. He just looks at me, not really like he’s scared, but he doesn’t look angry either. From the looks of his clothes he may have been hanging around this place for a hell of a long time. I’d bet my left arm this kid isn’t causing any havoc on the grounds. But I also can’t imagine why he’s here. I slowly raise my hands in a gesture of openness.

“Hey, buddy,” I say, not sure if he even speaks English. Are language barriers even a thing with ghosts?

He just watches me, but he’s not in a hurry to leave. I’m not quite sure what to do next. “I’ll help you if I can,” I offer, pointing to myself, as if that helps with the translation.

His gaze is fixed on me, and I don’t know why but I’m impressed that he’s not fading in and out of my range of vision. “Do you want to talk … to me?” I ask, attempting to throw in some helpful hand gestures.

When he doesn’t move I take a few steps forward. Apart from glancing around to see if we’re alone, he stays put. I stop about ten feet away from him and crouch down, taking a knee on the flagstone and hoping it makes me look less intimidating. That’s right, I’m trying to appear approachable to a ghost. And this day keeps getting weirder and weirder.

He fidgets a little now, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to talk himself into something or what, but after a few minutes of me just sitting there patiently he glitches in and out of sight, and back in again. I follow with my eyes as he moves toward me slowly. He blinks in and out as he gets close, coming back into focus just past me where my peripheral vision just barely catches him.

I turn my head, slowly angling by body around to watch as he moves toward the grove of trees I just left. Toward the graves.

He pauses long enough to gaze over his shoulder at me, and I realize he definitely wants me to follow him.

Holy shit….

I slowly raise up to my full height again, moving slowly toward him. He heads for the trees and I keep a short distance when I catch up, standing behind the headstones while he’s in front of them.

He’s facing one in particular, gazing at it almost longingly.

“Is - is this you?” I point at him and then to the headstone, and he gives a nod that’s barely perceptible.

And I’ll be damned if the look on his face doesn’t break my heart.

I nod at him in understanding, hoping he knows the intention behind the simple gesture.

And then he glitches once, twice, and is gone.

I rub the back of my neck with a hand, glancing around to be sure he’s not just moved, but there’s no sign of him. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the desert air and letting it out slowly.

I’m more determined than ever to figure out just what the hell is going on here.

Sam’s been on his laptop downloading the pictures I sent him when I get back to him room.

“I narrowed it down,” I tell him as I snag a granola bar of some kind from his bag.

“You did?”

I nod, moving over to point to the pictures on his screen. “We can safely eliminate this grave.”

He furrows his brow at me. “How - how do you know?”

I shrug and pull the wrapper off. “Because a ghost kid just told me he’s buried there.” He looks at me, incredulous, and I nod and say, “Yeah, I know.”

“You saw the ghost of a kid? Outside?”

I nod. “He told me that’s his grave, maybe not in so many words, but yeah…. We’ll take care of him before we go, too. Poor kid is trapped somehow. Can’t believe he hasn’t gone vengeful after all this time.”

“And you’re sure he hasn’t?”

“Believe me, he’s not our target.”

Sam frowns and says, “Well, okay then.” And he continues pulling images into the software he’s got pulled up. I watch as he manipulates the photos, trying this and that and hoping for a sign of some legible markings on the stone.

I’m combing through the hotel ledger again, mostly just to have something to do. And I’m raiding Sam’s bag for more snacks.

“Don’t you have M&M’s or something in here?” I say.

“Don’t you have your own snacks in your room?”

“I’ve eaten most of them.”

“Not my problem. And we just ate like an hour ago.”

“I’m hungry.”

I fall asleep out of sheer boredom at some point, and when I wake up it’s to Sam poking me in the ribs.

“Alright, I’m up. I’m up.” He chuckles and shuts his laptop, seeing it aside. “Find anything?” I ask.

“Nothing. The stones are too weathered.”

“Well, you tried.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, now what?”

I glance at my watch and say, “I guess I’ve got to get inside Maya’s rooms and poke around a little.”

Sam snorts. “Is that what kids are calling it these days?”

“You’re funny. But first, we eat dinner. I can’t poke around on an empty stomach.”

Sam shakes his head at me but gets to his feet to follow me out the door.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

I raise a hand and knock on one of the large doors. I don’t even know what I’m hoping for as I wait for Maya to answer. I mean, ideally, she tells me something that sets my mind at ease, something concrete that I can use to prove to Sam that she’s not the trouble he thinks she is. And if Maya’s still in the mood we could start back up where we left off….

Then she opens the door and I see her standing there in a slinky white dress. But it’s that look in her eyes that tells me she’s definitely still in the mood.

“Dean Winchester,” she purrs. “Please, come in.”

She steps back to let me pass and I go inside. I don’t know what I expected, but as I gaze around I find I’m standing in what seems like a parlor area.

Maya takes my arm and leads me down the hall to the right. I go with her, glancing over my shoulder briefly toward the opposite hall that I imagine leads to to her father’s quarters.

The hall is short and then we pass through a doorway into another area that’s set up like a large studio apartment of sorts. There’s the bedroom portion along the back wall to the right, a large bed and some other furniture nearby it. There’s a sofa close to me and a small table positioned in front of it with an bottle of wine waiting next to a pair of empty glasses.

“Is everything okay with your brother?” she asks, coming to stand in front of me.

“What?” Her question catches me off guard briefly before I realize the last she knew of Sam he was banging on the door to my room in a panic. “Oh yeah, he’s fine. It was nothing.”

She gives me a small smile and runs a hand up my chest to the collar of my shirt, playing with it for a second before she let’s go and takes a step back.

“Would you care for some wine?”

“Sure. Here, let me get that.”

I move around her and pick up the bottle, opening it while she gets comfortable on the sofa. I pour us each a glass and hand her one. I can tell she wants me to sit with her, but it’s the first time I’ve seen inside the place, and I really should at least attempt to get a look around.

_Small talk…._

Sam’s just so much better at that than I am. But I’ve got to try.

I almost blurt out that I saw the ghost kid outside, but it seems like a bad idea. I’m supposed to be investigating, and showing my hand too early would be a mistake.

“Nice place,” I say casually, turning as if to admire the space.

“It’s home,” she says before taking a sip of wine. There’s a painting on one wall, and I step toward it, studying everything as I move and hoping I don’t appear too curious. A candle burns on a small plate nearby and I run my fingers through the flame. “It’s all I’ve ever really known,” Maya adds. “It does get lonely….”

I glance at her over my shoulder, see her watching me with a heat in her gaze that’s hotter than the candle flame on my skin. She sips her wine again and raises an eyebrow at me. I turn back around to face her and she sets her glass down and gets to her feet.

And I’m suddenly very aware of the way her dress dips down low enough to make my mind wander lower into her cleavage. My mouth had been on her there just hours ago. Why did it feel like it had been days?

“It only makes sense for two people to find comfort in each other,” she’s saying. And her words, with that accent, they just feel like so much more. She takes one of my hands in hers, playing with my fingers like my hand is the most fascinating thing she’s seen in a long time.

“You’ve been working so hard to help us,” she says. “You deserve tonight.”

Then she pulls me gently, guiding me back in the direction of the bed. And it isn’t until we’re closer to it that I spot the pictures on the nightstand.

They’re the ones Sam found in here earlier. And dammit, now that I’ve got a good comparison, it’s shocking just how alike …

God, what if Sammy’s right? What if Maya’s the one in the photos?

“I, uh, I think maybe we were rushing into things earlier,” I try. “At least tell me a little bit about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” she says, still gently pulling me across the room.

“Uh, I don’t know.” My brain is on overload and I can’t find the right words to make her slow down. But I can’t go through with this, not until I know that’s not her in the photos.

“Maybe tell me about your family.”

“You already know about my family,” she says, footsteps pausing. Her hand comes to rest on my chest. And my goddamn heart reacts with a sputter, skipping what feels like several beats. “We spoke in great length about mi familia over dinner last night.” She leans in closer, rises up on her toes. “What more could you want to know?”

“Uh, tell me about your grandmother,” I start, ducking to the side a few inches and reaching for the framed photo Sam had found here earlier today. “Is this her?”

Maya takes the frame from my hand. She sets it down and laces her fingers in mine.

“Surely there are topics better suited to this time and place than my family history.”

“I saw a ghost today,” I say in an attempt to distract her.

She smiles. “We can talk more about the spirits tomorrow.”

Then she’s bringing my hand to her chest, pressing my palm to her right breast and holding it there. God she feels real. That’s flesh beneath my hand.

“Tonight I want you to forget about everything else, Dean Winchester, and be here with me. Completely.”

“The ghost was a kid,” I add for good measure. “He showed me things.”

Maya’s gaze snaps up to meet mine. And I can’t describe what it is that happens in that moment, but as I stare into her chocolate colored eyes, I just  _know._

Something isn’t right.

I know it deep in my bones, like some instinct that’s been buried is frantically clawing it’s way to the surface. I know it so definitively I’m down right appalled that I didn’t see it sooner.

I have to get out of here. And fast.

But Maya’s got other plans. She’s pushing me backward toward the bed, and then the back of my legs hit the foot-board and she’s forcing me down onto it. I scramble to stay sitting up, using my hands to help me scoot so I’m not flat on my back.

“Maya, I’m serious. I don’t want to disrespect you. What if your father comes back?”

“He won’t.” There’s a sharp edge to her voice I haven’t heard before.

“Maybe we should go back to my room,” I say. God, anything to get me closer to where Sam is, because there’s a very real chance I’m going to need back up if this goes south. “That way even if your father comes back he won’t-”

“I told you, he’s not coming. And you’re not going.”

_Shit, shit, shit._  All I have on me is a pistol. There’s iron in the rounds, sure, but that’s a temporary solution to a huge problem. Not to mention the fact that shooting her is just going to piss her off.

“And you had no problem helping me out of my wet clothes in your room,” Maya is saying. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. About how your hands felt on my skin. How your lips danced with mine….”

I’m flush against the headboard now, and she’s hitched up her long dress just far enough to let her climb onto the bed.

And part of me, the part of me that thought we might have sex tonight, is standing at attention, responding to her in exactly the way she wants. It’s infuriating, and confusing as hell.

“Maya, stop. We can’t-”

The words have only just left my mouth when a sound like lightning cracks, the sound itself coming from all directions. I half expect to smell ozone as I reach for the pistol tucked into the back of my jeans, only to feel something pin me to the bed.

It’s an invisible weight that feels so powerful and rigid that I’m surprised it’s not crushing me, but my lungs are still drawing in air, even if only to supply just enough oxygen to my heart, which has doubled it’s pace.

There’s an air current in the room now, like a cold wind that’s tossing loose papers all around.

And then I see it.

Her.

_Ghost her._

Skin so pale it’s almost blue. Her hair in matted strands, with none of the luster I’d seen as I’d run my hands through it just this afternoon. I’m not even going to pretend I understand how this is happening….

And her eyes. They’re completely white. No longer chocolate colored, but pale, pupil-less and bright, and I swear to god she sees right through me.

“Maya,” I try, but she’s smiling at me. And that smile is twisted, powerful, and dark.

And I know right then she’s not going to let me live through this.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Maya looks like a cat who has a mouse cornered, and I can’t move a damn muscle to help myself.

_This can’t be it. This can’t be how I die._

And then suddenly someone’s pounding on the door just down the hall, and I hear Sam yelling for me. He must have heard the commotion.

“Sam!” I call out.

From the sound of it, he’s kicking the door, yanking on the knobs, but it’s no use. There’s no way he’s getting in. And I’m still pinned to the bed.

“Sam, go!” I call out to him. I can’t be more specific, but I hope he’ll know what I need him to do. All I can do is hope. And try to stay alive.

Maya is kneeling at the bottom of the bed, but her ghost form glitches and I blink and find I’m staring at the normal, seemingly alive version of her I’ve come to know.

Everything but the eyes. They’re still white. And then there’s that mysterious wind blowing around the room.

“Maya,” I say, and she raises an eyebrow like she’s amused by my attempt to reason with her. “What happened to you?” I ask.

The question catches her off guard for a moment, and I see her ghost form flicker back into focus for a heartbeat, and then it’s gone again.

“Who did this to you?” I continue.

“A man not unlike yourself,” she says, and her voice is like honey again. “A man who visited this hotel, who was charming and kind, who doted on me and promised to take me away with him after I’d fallen in love with him. Instead, he took what he wanted, ravished my body, and murdered me in this very room.”

Before I can respond she gives a wave of her hand in the air and I watch as the material of my tee shirt starts to shred. It’s like an invisible claw is tearing the fabric, slowly, tortuously, raking a thin scratch down my skin at the same time, bringing tiny beads of blood to the surface.

“Maya-”

“He used me, and then disposed of me like I was nothing to him,” she adds.  "My father was overcome with grief. He murdered all of the hotel staff before taking his own life.“

_Holy shit._

“Listen to me, Maya,” I demand. “What that guy did to you was wrong on so many levels. I get that. I do,” I say through gritted teeth, chest heaving. And there goes another tear in my shirt - my chest - and one in my jeans, moving down my leg, to go along with it. “I’m not him. I didn’t do this to you.”

My heart is racing, and I’m having a hard time coming up with ways to convince her I’m not the douche-bag she obviously thinks I am.

She’s moving forward on the bed now, and I see another quick glimpse of her ghost form.

“Dean Winchester….” she purrs, and I can’t believe the way she says my name was ever a turn on, and that my traitorous body still apparently feels that way.

Maya’s fingers trail along my cheek and down my jaw. It’s all I can do not to shudder in disgust at her touch.

There goes another rip in my shirt and jeans, more scratches to go with them, and that last tear is dangerously close to my junk, as if my heart needed another reason to go full-throttle.

“Whoa, hey!” I call out. “What is it you want from me?”

She straddles my legs, settling down over my hips. And just feeling the weight of her against me is surreal. How in the hell is she actually here? Spirits don’t work like this. And for this long….

“I want nothing more than what you are so eager to give me,” she says, and she grinds lightly against me.

“Hey, hold up,” I tell her, putting all my feeling into the words. “I’m all about a woman who likes to be in control, but this? This is pushing it.”

Maya grins now, and another piece of my shirt rips, accompanied by another scratch on the surface of my skin. The sound of the ripping fabric is lost in the swirling wind that’s still whooshing around the room.

“And you’re the one who asked me to dinner,” I remind her. “You’re the one who pulled me out into the rain.”

“You’re going to give me what I want, Dean Winchester. In fact, you’ve already begun.”

I stare at her, refusing to look away from those cold, white, soul-boring eyes.

“Seeing you like this, … helpless, vulnerable, eager despite everything. This is what I want.”

“So this is what you do?” I say, hoping to distract her, to keep her talking, to buy more time. “You trap guys that come to the hotel and use them to get even with the bastard who murdered you?”

This power trip she’s on makes sense now. She died while feeling completely vulnerable and helpless. She’s trying to make up for that in death.

She walks her fingers up my chest, which is mostly bare now and riddled with angry scratches. My heart reacts to her touch, jumping and uneven, sending pain rippling out from it.

Maya leans in slowly and flickers in and out of her true form again just before she grips my jaw with a hand and presses her lips to mine.

I struggle, but it’s useless. I’m completely at her mercy. She kisses me long and hard, and for a second I think that dying might be a nice reprieve, but then I think about Sam, and I know he’ll never forgive himself if this ghost takes me out.

“Did you really think you could just come to my hotel, disrespect my family by going through our private things, and walk away a hero, Dean Winchester?”

“We were just trying to help,” I say with as much venom as I can put into the words.

“I do not need your help. Or anyone else’s.” Then she looks at me with a new found interest, which scares me as much as anything. “I may just keep you around after I kill you, Dean Winchester,” Maya says slowly. “You can ensnare weary travelers for me, and entertain me when the hotel is quiet.”

I give her my best cocky grin and say, “I’m not that easy to kill, sweetheart.”

And then, in an instant she pulls back and screeches. It’s an angry, ungodly sound, and it’s over almost as quickly as it began as she disappears into thin air.

I try to move but I’m still pinned to the bed. She’s not gone. Not for good, at least not yet. I didn’t see her burn, which means Sam hasn’t gotten to her remains. I just hope that’s what he’s doing.

Struggling against the invisible force that’s holding me down is just exhausting me and getting me nowhere. So I take a deep breath and try to convince my heartbeat to slow.

She’s not gone long, and when she flashes back, she’s even more solid, even more furious, if that’s possible.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where we left off:
> 
> “I may just keep you around after I kill you, Dean Winchester,” Maya says slowly. “You can ensnare weary travelers for me, and entertain me when the hotel is quiet.”
> 
> I give her my best cocky grin and say, “I’m not that easy to kill, sweetheart.”
> 
> And then, in an instant she pulls back and screeches. It’s an angry, ungodly sound, and it’s over almost as quickly as it began as she disappears into thin air.
> 
> I try to move but I’m still pinned to the bed. She’s not gone. Not for good, at least not yet. I didn’t see her burn, which means Sam hasn’t gotten to her remains. I just hope that’s what he’s doing.
> 
> Struggling against the invisible force that’s holding me down is just exhausting me and getting me nowhere. So I take a deep breath and try to convince my heartbeat to slow.
> 
> She’s not gone long, and when she flashes back, she’s even more solid, even more furious, if that’s possible.

“Did you do something to my brother?” I demand.

Maya ignores my question completely. I realize if Sam had gotten her with salt shot, her hold on me would have most likely let up temporarily. And since that didn’t happen I’m fighting back panic over what she’s done to Sam.

“You listen to me, bitch,” I snarl. “If you hurt my brother I will come back and haunt your ass and ruin all of your little ghost fun. You hear me?”

Glass starts breaking all around the room. A vase, a cup, who knows what else. Maya is straddling my hips again. She leans down, pressing her lips to my chest, kissing the spot right over my heart.

And instead of cold like I’m expecting, her touch is red hot.

My heart is on fire. It’s frantic, on the verge of faltering, shooting more knife-like stabbing pain through my chest. It’s a wonder it’s still beating. If Maya doesn’t kill me soon, a heart attack sure as hell will save her the trouble.

The scratches on my skin are icy, a complete contradiction to the heat emanating from the rest of my body.

My nerves are raw, exposed, overwhelmed. At any moment now I expect my body to go into shock. In fact, Maya’s probably the only thing preventing that from happening. She’s having too much fun playing with me. She doesn’t want me dead until she thinks she’s exacted her revenge….

It’s getting hard to breathe and …  _shit, shit, shit…._

Maya’s ghost has her hand on my zipper now, tugging down slowly. I couldn’t feel more violated if I were a goddamn meat-suit. And that wicked smile she’s wearing makes me sick.

I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I was literally anywhere else right now.

My blood is pounding in my ears, roiling, searing. God, I’d give anything to unload a couple rounds of salt shot right into her face.

I’ve got to do something to buy some time….

Her fingers are at my hip bones now, tugging at my jeans. I open my eyes, stare right at her, jaw clenched and teeth grinding. Then I have an idea.

“Do it,” I say to her. It’s a challenge. And despite the pain roaring in my chest, I relax my face and my body and give her a sexy smirk.

Maya hesitates, but she doesn’t look completely convinced.

“I’m just going to lay back and enjoy.” I let out something like an amused laugh. “Don’t even need my hands, sweetheart. I remember exactly what you feel like. What you taste like. What you smell like.” I wink at her and she flinches, startled. Her face hardens, betraying her insecurities.

I’ve got her now. This is the last thing she expects.

Maya pulls her hands back in a gesture of retreat. She’s unsure now, questioning my motives.

“Come on, woman,” I bark. “Get on with it already. I’ve waited long enough, don’t you think? God, the service in this place is pathetic.”

She’s glaring at me with those white eyes, her expression still filled with anger, but now laced with something stronger … something I can use.

_Doubt._

“Come on, baby,” I say. “Did I hurt your feelings? I have to admit, I thought you’d be better at this.”

Whatever hold she has on my body, it’s the only thing that explains my erection.

“I’m doing my part here,” I say, glancing down at the tent in my boxers. “What are you going to do about it?”

She has a moment where I can practically see her internal struggle in those sickening, pale eyes. She even reaches out her hand, palming me through the thin material of my boxers. The shit-eating grin I give her in response is Oscar-worthy.

It’s enough to make her feel like her plan - her entire world - is falling apart. She screeches again, and slaps me across the face so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t dislocate my jaw.

“That’s more like it,” I tell her, licking my bottom lip and tasting blood where it’s split open. “How’d you know I like it rough?”

Now she’s completely disarmed, and there’s no way to predict where things will go from here.

She raises her hand again, like she doesn’t know what to do beyond slapping me again, but the sting of her hand on my face never comes. Her white eyes grow wide, panic-stricken, and then I see glorious flames appear, licking at her from every angle as she shrieks and dissolves into a pile of thick, black, dusty ash right on top of me.

It happens in an instant, and all at once I can move again. I fill my lungs completely and jump up from the bed.

As I’m hitching my pants back up over my hips - relieved to find that my erection seems to have gone with her - I see that the suite, which only a second ago was pristine, now is no more than crumbling, deteriorated ruins. The walls are falling apart, there’s a hole in the ceiling, and the bed is no more than a wooden carcass of a frame. Remnants of what used to be….

The whole damn place has been an illusion. A sick, twisted oasis in the middle of a god-forsaken desert.

I quickly brush what I can of the ash from my jeans with my hands, finding that there are cobwebs everywhere, too, but I’m more concerned with getting to Sam.

The rug I remember on the floor is gone, and the stone floor is cold and covered in a thick layer of dust as I rush across it, heading for the parlor. The suite’s door is the only thing I’m convinced is still actually solid in this place. I pull it open and run as fast as my legs can carry me down the dilapidated hallway, desperate to get out of this hell hole and find my brother.

The stones stairs are so broken up that I almost take a spill as I haul ass down them two at a time. I’m nearing the part of the hall where it opens up to the courtyard when Sam and I nearly collide.

“Dean!” he exclaims at the same time I’m calling his name.

“Man, am I glad to see you,” I say as I put my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath. Sam’s doing the same thing.

“I … I wasn’t sure I got to her in time….” Sam sighs, panting.

I shoot him a grateful smile. “Almost didn’t.”

Sam’s eyeing me in concern. “God, what she did to you?”

I look down at what’s left of my shirt, at the rips in the denim of my jeans, the scratches all over my chest. “You really don’t want to know.”

He let’s out a humorless laugh, shaking his head, but he seems to be okay.

“How did you know which grave to dig up?” I say, furrowing my brow and looking out toward the group of shade trees beyond the courtyard.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Lucky guess.”

I laugh, but only because it’s the only way for the hysteria that’s built up inside me to get out somehow.

“Well, I won’t say I told you so, but what the hell was going on here?” Sam says, looking around at the crumbling building, at the broken ceramic tiles that were on the roof once upon a time, but have since fallen victim to the wind and crashed to the flagstone beneath our feet.

“Maya,” I begin. “She was murdered by a hotel guest way back…. Her father was so broken up over it that he slaughtered the entire hotel staff before he killed himself.”

“My God,” Sam breathes.

“Something she said back there…. She had all of the hotel staff trapped here with her. I guess she needed them to keep up the illusion of the hotel in order to lure guests in.”

“She came at me,” Sam says. “She must have sensed I was messing with her remains. That was when I knew I had the right grave.”

“That explains why she disappeared for a minute. She had me pinned down though so I couldn’t move. What did you do when she showed up?” I ask.

“Just kept digging,” Sam says with a shrug. “I had a circle of salt all around the spot where the graves were. She couldn’t do a thing to stop me. I was calling her out while I shoveled, hoping to keep her away from you.”

I give him an impressed nod and raise a hand to my chest. My heart is still racing, but it’s no longer erratic.

“You okay?” Sam asks.

I nod as Sam and I start walking down the hall toward the rooms we stayed in.  

“It was her. She’s been messing with my heart the whole damn time. I thought it was gonna give out on me there for a bit.”

“I guess it’s not that surprising,” Sam says. “She was controlling a lot more than that to keep up the illusion. She had to have been warping our minds, our senses, all of it … the whole time. She must have seen us coming a mile away.”

“Yeah, well, why didn’t your heart go haywire?”

“I didn’t really spend time with her. Maybe it was a proximity thing.”

I rub the back of my neck with a hand. “Man, I don’t know. I do know I want to drive as fast as Baby can go and get as far away from this place as possible. There’s just one more thing we’ve got to take care of first.”

Sam nods and says. “The boy.”

“I’m going to change into some clothes that are, well, still clothes,” I say.

The room I’ve been sleeping in is a ruined mess. I grab my bag and start to gather my things, brushing aside cobwebs, amazed at the scale of the illusion Maya had managed.

Sam’s in his room collecting his things, and I’m grateful for a moment of privacy, because suddenly the reality of what Maya and I had done in this room earlier today sinks in fully.

_If Sam hadn’t interrupted us…._

The thought is so revolting I’m puking my guts up in the corner.

I peel off what’s left of my clothes and drop them on the floor, doing my best to inspect the wounds Maya had inflicted, but there’s nothing too serious. There’s really no sense in cleaning the scratches until I get a shower at a real motel, so I pull on some clean cloths and carry my bag out to the car. Sam’s waiting for me. We load up our stuff and pull the car around to the back of the property.

I pick up the shovel that’s still waiting near the graves and Sam grabs a second one from the trunk.

I take a second to gaze into the hole there where Maya’s remains are still smoldering.  

I shake my head and then start digging in the spot the boy had shown me earlier. Sam’s eyeing me like he thinks I’m going to drop dead.

“Maybe I should-”

“I’m good, man. Really,” I tell him. “My chest doesn’t hurt. Ticker’s steady again. I’m telling you, it was her.” But Sam still looks concerned. “Besides, you already dug one grave. You wanna dig another one and fill ‘em both back in alone?”

He sighs and gives me a smile, shaking his head. “Not really.”

“All right then.” I nod at the pile of dirt in front of him and say, “Fill her in.” He starts moving the dirt while I continue to dig in the other spot. “God, I’m starving,” I say as I work, feeling my stomach rumble.

“That’s because we haven’t eaten,” Sam says. “Not much anyway.”

And I realize he’s right. All those fantastic meals Hector served us weren’t real. It’s just as messed up as a Djinn dream in that way. No wonder I’m freaking famished.

And I’m definitely feeling it. The lack of food is making digging this grave so much harder. My body is weary, and I can tell by watching him that Sam is feeling the same way. God, I can’t wait to get the hell away from here.

“I was thinking,” Sam says. “I wonder if Maya was using your life force, or your energy to draw from. How else would she pull off such a solid illusion? I mean, you said yourself she was flesh and blood, or at least appeared to be. Might explain why you were so affected by her.”

“Don’t remind me,” I mutter, fighting back the urge to gag at just the thought.

“Maybe you should have Cas take a look at you when we get back to the bunker. Make sure she didn’t cause any lasting damage with your heart or anything.”

I’m more concerned about the damage she inflicted to my libido, but I nod to make Sam happy. “That’s not a terrible idea,” I admit.

We move dirt for what seems like forever, and I’m sort of zoning out, going through the motions until I hear Sam whisper my name.

I look up, confused, but he gestures with a jerk of his chin behind me. I glance over my shoulder, turning slightly, and see the ghost of the boy standing a few feet away, just outside the ring of salt Sam had poured earlier … watching.

“Hey buddy,” I say, moving another shovel full of dirt. “Told you I’d help, didn’t I?”

Sam’s hesitant, understandably so. He looks like he doesn’t dare dig now that we have company.

Normally a ghost showing up at the grave you’re digging doesn’t bode well, but this little guy is trapped for whatever reason. Maybe he just doesn’t know how to move on. Maybe he’s scared to. Whatever it is, I’m almost certain salting and burning his remains will do the trick.

Sam takes a deep breath and let’s it out slowly before he fills in the last few shovel loads of dirt over Maya’s remains.

He pauses to take a breather, leaning on the shovel and watching my little ghost buddy. The kid just looks right back at him, unmoving.

I dig for another couple of minutes before reaching the wooden box that’s served as a coffin for the kid for who knows how many years. The wood is warped, cracked, and caving in on one end. I gingerly lift it open, prying gently with the shovel. Sam hands me the salt and I generously coat his remains with it.

“Time to go,” I say, looking up at the boy as Sam adds lighter fluid. The ghost nods, watching me closely.

“Requiescat in pacem,” Sam says to the boy as I light a match. 

Latin for ‘rest in peace.’ It’s a nice touch. I drop the match and watch as the boy’s ghost silently catches fire and is gone almost instantly.

Sam lets out a huffy breath, amazed. “That’s a first.”

“Whole lot of firsts happening,” I say as I watch the remains burning.

“I wasn’t talking about you having ghost sex,” Sam says, his voice teasing.

“Dude, so not funny.” I give him my bitch face, but he’s grinning like an idiot.

“It’s a little funny.”

“She was messing with me,” I say in my defense. “Ugh, it’s … I-I can’t even think about it.”

“I told you to keep it in your pants,” Sam says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, well, there wasn’t much left of said pants by the time you lit her up.”

Sam throws back his head and laughs for real this time. And I know I might think it’s funny one day, but that day is not today.

“We gotta find a real motel,” I tell him. “With a real shower. And then we’re going to hit up a bar and eat some real food.”

And I don’t say this part out loud, but I’m going to find a real woman to put her hands all over me and make me forget everything that happened here today.

Someone who can appreciate that I’m cute and charming, and who will let me make her feel so good she screams my name. Make me forget this entire nightmare at this god-forsaken hotel that’s straight out of an Eagles song.

And after the rest of the shoveling is over, and Sam and I are speeding down the highway, I think about how good it’s going to feel to bury my pain with someone soft and warm and sweet. And _real_. And that thought keeps me going.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the ride. Please, take a moment to leave a comment and let me know what you thought of Hotel California. Feedback nourishes my muse.


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